


Three Times Vision Nearly Kissed Wanda and One Time He Finally Did

by ES_Rowan



Series: Strange Magic [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Cute, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Kissing, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:14:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27514399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ES_Rowan/pseuds/ES_Rowan
Summary: It's the three times and one time fic nobody asked for, but you're all getting it anyway!I'll let the title speak for itself.Strange Magic is a series of snippets and moments in time between Wanda and Vision, in no particular order.
Relationships: Wanda Maximoff & Vision, Wanda Maximoff/Vision
Series: Strange Magic [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2007952
Comments: 4
Kudos: 80
Collections: Wanda/ Vision stories i care about :')





	1. Kitchen Lessons

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Marvel or any of the characters.  
> I am using them purely for fun and creative purposes!

He had asked her to help him learn to cook after his complete disaster at making  _ paprikash _ and had been extraordinarily happy when she agreed.

They stood in the kitchen, her over a large pot on the stove, adding ingredients and stirring and directing him with what to chop and how to chop and when to add it in - they moved around each other with a certain fluidity, as though they had always cooked together, as if it were the most natural thing for them to be doing.

She turned to grab something at the exact moment he turned to ask her if he was chopping the herbs finely enough and they found themselves in an awkwardly intimate position: she was backed against the counter held in by his hands either side of her, gripping the countertop.

Her breath caught, a whispered intake of air that stuck between her lips as she raised her eyes to meet his and something strangely electric passed between them; a crackle of energy that fizzed along her skin and sparked through his synapses.

Instinct took over as she reached up slowly and pressed her fingertips to his chest and in response one of his hands moved to curve around her waist and she lifted up on tiptoes; their lips a breath away from each other as his hand moved to her back to bring her closer - 

“Hey! Something smells  _ good _ in this kitchen for once!” Tony Stark’s voice shattered the moment and they broke apart, Vision glancing at Wanda as she blew a lock of hair away from her face and briskly stirred the casserole. “Woah, tension,” Tony looked between them both and grinned, popping a dried blueberry into his mouth, “I interrupt something here?”

“Ms. Maximoff was kind enough to teach me to cook, Mr. Stark,” Vision’s voice was smooth, even, despite the feeling bubbling inside him.

“Uh-huh,” Tony cocked an eyebrow at Wanda, who was busying herself on the opposite side of the kitchen to Vision; her back to them both.

Tony left, shaking his head as he tossed a handful of blueberries in his mouth and wondered if those two crazy kids would ever just get it together.

Vision coughed once the room was theirs again and Wanda turned, cheeks flushed pink and eyes shining with mirth as she tilted her head in that wonderfully bird-like manner that always makes him smile wider than he ever has and he sees that smile mirrored on her face as she joins him at the stove, their pinky fingers linked together under the counter as they continue with his lesson.


	2. What It Means

Evening at the Avengers facility usually meant late training or everyone settling into their rooms or sprawling out in the massive communal area and watching a movie.

This evening, Wanda had chosen to stay in her room while the others congregated in the common room, her guitar on her lap as she listlessly plucks the same string over and over; lost deep in her thoughts of a certain android that had captured more than her attention.

“Is everything alright?” a voice in her doorway makes her jump and she looks up to see the subject of her thoughts standing there in his usual charmingly awkward manner.

“Yes, I think. Actually I don’t know, I just feel. . .” Wanda trails off with a shrug, not sure how to articulate her thoughts, especially not the person who she was thinking of.

Vision gestures to her room, a silent question that she answers with a nod, smiling as he settles into the chair near her bed.

They had created a language of their own, a sort of silent communication that only they understood. It had become something of a joke amongst the others; trying to decode their conversations and failing entirely.

“You can always talk to me, Wanda,” he said gently, reaching out to take her hand.

He had been doing that a lot lately, finding opportunities to touch her as though he were drawn to her - a moth to a flame, two magnets pulling together, he thought as she shifted to allow him the touch.

Since their near-kiss in the kitchen a few days previous, she had been feeling even more unsure of herself around him; wondering how to proceed with the changes in their friendship and how close they had become, how easily they could open up to each other and just talk or sit in comfortable silence.

She shrugs, a helpless little gesture and makes a frankly bizarre noise in her throat that she is sure was supposed to be a word or  _ something  _ other than the mouse-like squeak that it was and she huffs out a laugh at her own cursed awkwardness around this man - because that is what he is to her, not an android, not a robot, not  _ robo-son  _ as Tony calls him when he’s feeling particularly mischievous, but a  _ man _ , plain and simple. He is more human than most people she knows and his honesty and curiosity, his openness and desire to learn and become  _ more  _ is inspiring and, if she’s being completely truthful with herself,  _ really attractive _ .

Her brother would be in hysterical laughter right now, if he could see her and that thought brings her crashing down, her head tipping forward and her hair falling over her face; obscuring her from his view.

That just wouldn’t do, he muses and leans forward, moving her hair aside with one finger and tipping her chin up so their eyes met and making it so she cannot hide from him - not that she had been able to at all lately.

She lets out a shaky breath as she sees the concern and affection in his eyes; no longer shrewdly assessing, but softened and oh,  _ oh _ , she cannot hide from him; not his searching eyes or his gentle hands with the way he carefully keeps hold of her chin and she cannot stop the words spilling out like water bubbling over stones in a river.

“We almost kissed the other day and I cannot stop thinking about it and I love how close we are and that our bond, our connection just grows more and more every day but I’m so worried, so  _ so worried  _ that it could complicate things or go wrong or that it will harm our friendship or -”

Vision smiles at her, slow and sweet and presses a finger to her lips to stop the flow of words and she squeaks again, startled, eyes wide.

“Wanda, darling girl,” and  _ oh  _ does her heart race at that term of endearment; something he had only called her once since the near-kiss but it had set her soul alight, it was hers and hers alone, something that she could keep tucked in her heart for when times seemed too dark - a little light just for her. “I have thought of little else.”

“Really?” 

Her hands reach up and fingers curl around his wrist and perhaps this time there will be no interruptions as she moves closer to him, his other hand stroking her arm and the air has turned electric again; the tension an almost physical presence in the room as they move ever closer to each other; her breath ghosting over his lips and - 

“Hey Wanda!” Clint Barton’s voice shouts through the corridor, “you gonna come out tonight? Stop being a loner!”

Once again, they spring apart, not wishing to be caught in this position as tentative as it is right now and Clint appears in the doorway with a massive bowl of freshly popped popcorn and a grin that could only be described as smug.

Wanda glances at Vision who is trying - and failing - to conceal a smile, his eyes bright and shining with something she cannot fathom, but for the first time in a long time, she cannot wait to find out what it means.


	3. Sparring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright my beautiful readers, had a couple of messages asking me why comments weren't showing up and wondering if it was a bug on AO3 - I have enabled moderation for various reasons; so if you have commented and don't see what you've said there is likely a reason.
> 
> Thanks for understanding and being the amazing people that you all are!

Vision found Wanda in the training room, flushed with the exertion of her rigorous routine.

She had been there more often than not after Lagos, having taken the situation that had occurred there extremely hard; it was clear that she was shouldering far too much of the blame, but nobody could get through to her and absolve her of her guilt.

Today was no different as Vision watched her take a sip of water and settle back into a meditative state before starting a series of complex hand gestures, while spinning like a top; her every move fluid and graceful, a dancer, pure poetry in motion.

He settles against the wall and observes, cataloguing each move, storing it in his memory for use when they sparred together next.

He chuckled to himself. Sneaky, yes, but so far she had bested him every time and his ego, small as it was, was starting to suffer.

She pivoted on the ball of one foot, her other leg extended out, toes flexed like a ballerina, he thought as she performed a complicated move that switched her weight to the extended leg in the blink of an eye and sparks of red flew from her fingers and  _ eviscerated  _ her target, the sparring dummy splintering, shards of it slamming into the wall behind Vision.

He blinked, turning his attention to how firmly the large splinters were embedded in the wall and with his attention elsewhere, he failed to notice the red tendrils closing around his ankles until it was far too late.

He was upside down in the air before he knew it and he twisted in the grip of strong magic, turning to face his captor with a wry smile.

"Well played," he said as she floated towards him on a burst of power and stopped just in front of his inverted body, a smile playing on her lips. "But will my captor be gracious this time?"

Wanda hummed thoughtfully, a wicked gleam in her eyes as she slowly turned Vision the right way up. "I think today, I will be."

Vision reached out, pushing past the barrier of the spell she had trapped him in and grasped her hand in his, bringing it to his lips and kissing it, a courtly, gentlemanly gesture that had her cheeks turning rosy pink.

He thoroughly enjoyed the effect that one simple action had on her and decided in one brief flash of deviousness to employ it ruthlessly as he repeated it, making certain his eyes were locked on hers. She was caught, pinned like a butterfly in a collectors case in his intense gaze.

Her teeth caught in her bottom lip and in that moment her focus broke and with it, the spell, sending them both tumbling to ground, Wanda first.

Vision realised the impact could hurt Wanda and in a split second he shot forward and wrapped his arms around her, shielding her from the impact by taking the brunt of the landing.

They collapsed in a heap, laughing and breathless.

"Are you alright, Wanda?" He asked after the laughter had subsided.

"I'm fine, I think  _ you  _ broke my fall. Did I hurt you?"

"Not at all," he reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, leaving his hand to cradle her head tenderly.

The air between them crackled, a force so powerful that nothing could stop it as Vision brought her head to rest against his, something in his chest hitching and stuttering at the way her eyes darkened and her tongue darted out to wet her lips.

This time, he thought, I will  _ not  _ be interrupted and he tilted his head so their lips could finally -

"Well, well, well," a familiar voice rang out from the door. "This is not the kind of sparring this room was created for."

Wanda cursed softly in her native tongue, making Vision choke back a laugh as he stood, holding out his hands to help her up.

"Ms. Romanoff, I was just demonstrating. . ."

"I can see  _ exactly  _ what you were demonstrating," Natasha smirked at the pair as they stood apart, Wanda beetroot red and Vision stuttering, flustered and nowhere near his usually calm, collected self. "This door locks, by the way," she grinned and walked away, tapping out a message to the rest of the team:

_ I'm in, put me down for next Sunday before midnight. _


	4. Wildflowers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, my wonderful readers - the final chapter.  
> Are you ready....?
> 
> Vision certainly is!

It had come to Visions attention that the people he had come to call friends; his teammates, had been watching him more closely than usual.

Concerned that he was malfunctioning in a way that he was somehow unable to detect, he decided to sit and connect to Tony Stark’s mainframe and make completely certain that he was functioning correctly.

As much as he was learning - and he had learned so much already - what it was to be human, and a man, he was still an android and with any technological being, there were things that could go wrong; especially when the Mind Stone was involved.

His fingers hovered over the stone in question and he sighed; feelings its presence humming in his head.

As he flicked through files and programs, something strange caught his attention: a subdirectory with a hidden file, password protected and encrypted, titled  _ the new pool _ .

Frowning, Vision cracked the password and decrypted the file, glancing around before opening it.

The contents surprised him. Far from being instructions on a new swimming pool for the facility, it was a list of dates, time slots and everyone’s names were allocated to a different slot.

Confused, Vision closed the file and went in search of someone who could help him understand.

Wanda was curled in an overstuffed armchair a book open on her lap, unread and ignored as she gazed out the window, lost in a daydream.

It had been a few days since her and Vision had had yet another near-kiss while in the training room and once again, had been interrupted.

It was starting to feel like a conspiracy, she mused as she shifted to get comfortable.

“Wanda?” A wonderfully familiar voice in her doorway made her smile, something that faded at the expression on his face.

“Vis, what’s wrong?”

“Would you come with me, please? I need to show you something.”

He held out his hands to help her stand and tucked her arm through his as he led her to the smallest lab in the facility, one that was barely used now they had several larger ones; all fitted with state of the art equipment.

Curious, Wanda sat on the stool Vision gestured to, smiling inwardly at the warmth of his hand on her back as he pulled up a file on the transparent screen in front of them.

“I didn’t know Mr Stark was planning on putting in a second pool,” Wanda shrugged and looked up at Vision.

“It isn’t about a swimming pool, or anything related. Look,” he pointed to the document he had found and ran his finger down the list of dates and time slots.

“I. . . I don’t understand,” she blinked, confused at the data in front of her. “But look, there’s a second file here,” she opened it and let out a small distressed sound that made Vision immediately want to protect her.

He had been feeling that way more and more - wanting to protect her (even though he knew firsthand that she was more than capable of protecting herself), wanting to be near her, wanting to make her smile and laugh. Wanting,  _ wanting. _

He hadn’t known he had the capacity for this depth of feeling, this emotional connection with someone; being an android he thought that he would simply just  _ exist  _ but this incredible, beautiful, magical woman had blown into his life like a hurricane, turned him upside down (sometimes literally as well as figuratively) and left him reeling. 

He had managed, he thought, to keep this well hidden from the others, only allowing her to get glimpses of how he felt about her - it had gone way beyond a simple friendship and definitely past the awkward flirtation stage; but what exactly they were to each other was something he had no words for.

“Vis?” Her voice, soft and musical startled him out of his thoughts and he glanced down at her; surprised to see her looking serious, her brow furrowed.

“I am sorry, I was. . . lost for a moment,” he stammered.

“I think I know what this file is,” she said, “Vision, they’re betting on us.”

“I am not certain I understand,” Vision looked over the files again and tried to make sense of the data.

There were time slots for each day of the week they were currently in and within some of those slots, almost like a schedule, were the names of their teammates.

“It’s a betting pool, look here at the second file. It says that if the week goes by without the target being acquired by someone, then the money goes back into the fund for the following week.”

“And what is the target?”

“Us, Vis.” her voice was quiet and had an edge to it, sharp and hard. 

“Us? I don’t -”

“They’re taking bets on when we kiss.”

Vision spluttered, pushing away from the screen and leaning against the table opposite to regain composure.

Their friends were placing bets on something like that? It was inconceivable. 

A slender hand covered his, cool and soothing and almost instantly his ire evaporated when he turned his head to look at her and saw a devious expression flit across her face.

“You’re plotting something,” he turned his hand over, their palms touching and twined his fingers with hers.

“Now what makes you think that?”

“I know you,” he smiled, “what are you going to do?”

“I think perhaps people may find themselves allocated different time slots,” she replied, airily and moved away from him to fiddle with the document. 

He stood behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders and rubbing the lingering tension away with his thumbs.

She let out a happy sigh as he increased the pressure of his touch and leaned back into him; satisfied with her handiwork.

She laughed and spun around on the stool to face him.

“That should teach them to play games,” she grinned and he leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead.

“My clever little witch,” he murmured.

“Yours, hmm?” 

“I. . . ah,” Vision drew back and looked away, embarrassed and suddenly feeling very unsure.

Had he been reading things wrong all this time?

Were the things he had been feeling completely one-sided?

_ You are a fool _ , a voice laughed in the back of his mind, reminiscent of Ultron,  _ did you really think a human would feel anything for a  _ **robot** ?

No, surely not. 

Surely he had not misread the closeness that was developing between them, the times that they had been so very close to that one perfect moment of a sweet kiss; something that he could pour everything he had been feeling and thinking for so long.

“Did I lose you again, Vis?” Wanda reached up and patted one of his hands with hers, the touch bringing him out of increasingly worrying thoughts.

“Ah, no, I just. . . overstepped, I think.”

“Relax,” she smiled and stood, his arms slipping from her shoulders as she did so, and pressed a soft kiss on his cheek. “I liked it. I’m just not used to. . .well,  _ this _ .”

“Neither am I,” he replied, his hands taking hers once more, “it is something I look forward to becoming used to, though.”

Her smile spread, eyes alight as she left the room, leaving him to tap something quickly into the still open file, before saving it and closing everything down.

_ Now I just have to be patient _ , he thought.

_ Sunday, midday _

Wanda had been feeling wistful and longed to see lush grasses, beautiful flowers and the sky, blue and endless above her as she lay back and let the sun warm her skin.

She sat, curled on one of the many large couches in the communal room, chin in her hands as she stared out of the window and watched fluffy clouds scudding across the summer sky; birdsong clear and bright as bells.

The others were around, playing pool or sipping a drink at the large bar.

Vision took in the scene, eyes lighting up when he spotted Wanda by the window. He took a breath and walked into the room, hands behind his back, concealing something.

The hubbub of voices, general chatter and the clatter of pool balls gradually died down as he crossed the room and tapped her shoulder.

It seemed, to him, as though the entire room was holding its breath as she turned to him, a smile as bright as sunlight on her face; brighter still when he brought out the bouquet of wildflowers from behind his back and offered them to her.

She stood, taking them from him and burying her nose into the blooms to inhale their scent.

“Vis, thank you, they’re beautiful. But why -”

She was cut off by his hands lightly resting at her waist and his lips brushing against hers, so softly that it might have been a whisper; the barest hint of a kiss that made her heart begin beating in double-time.

She placed the flowers on her seat, wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his, his arms wrapping tight around her waist, splayed across her back as he laughed softly against her mouth, pressing kisses on her lips, her cheeks, her forehead.

She was breathless with their affections, unable to keep the smile from spreading across her face as one hand tangles in her hair and he brushes another kiss to her lips, and another and another as though now he has finally kissed her, he simply cannot stop.

“Alright, alright,” Tony called from the bar, “who had today at midday?”

“I believe that was me,” Bruce grinned, “pay up people.”

Vision broke away from Wanda, brushing her hair away from her face, cradling her head in his hands.

“Perhaps it would be nice to take a walk?” He suggested, “I hear Miss Potts has cultivated some extraordinary flowers near the pond.”

“I’d like that,” she whispered and picked up the flowers, tucking her arm through his.

“Oh, by the way,” Vision addressed the room, making sure he had everyone’s attention. “I think you’ll find you’ve made a mistake, Dr. Banner.”

“Huh?” Bruce, confused, pulled up the file and squinted at it. “What the -”

Written in the slot for midday on Sunday were two names:

_ Wanda Maximoff and Vision _

Wanda laughed, a bright sound that made something in his chest feel as if it were bursting as he guided her out of the facility and into the grounds; the sunlight on their skin and the heady scent of wildflowers surrounding them.


End file.
